


A Christmas Wedding

by vorpalsword



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Gratuitous...well everything tbh, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorpalsword/pseuds/vorpalsword
Summary: Donna brings Ten as her date for Nerys’ Christmas wedding. Based on a Tumblr prompt: Ten + Donna + every romantic trope, but they don’t actually fall in love.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble
Comments: 21
Kudos: 99





	1. (Everything I do) I do it for you

**Author's Note:**

> In which Donna is invited to a wedding.

“Oh no. Oh no oh no oh  _ no.” _

The Doctor looks up at Donna across the console. He opens his mouth to ask her what the matter is, but before he can get out the words, her chorus of “oh no’s” have turned into a loud, unintelligible groan.

“UUUUUGGhhhh,” Donna moans, leaning heavily against the console.

“Er...Donna?”

The Doctor approaches her cautiously, like one might approach a wounded animal. 

“What’s wrong?”

In response, she wordlessly shoves a crumpled bit of parchment in his face. The Doctor accepts the offer, flattening it out where Donna’s fist had crushed it, to reveal flowing script:

_ You are cordially invited to the wedding of Miss Nerys Archer and _ \- 

But that’s as far as the Doctor gets before Donna snatches the invitation back out of his hands, waving it around as she paces about the console room, muttering under her breath. The Doctor catches “Nerys” and “stupid” several times (and a few more colorful words as well) before he ventures to step in.

“Donna? Care to share with the class?”

Donna stops pacing and heaves a great sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before returning her gaze to the Doctor.

“Nerys is getting married. On Christmas.  _ This _ Christmas.”

“Oh, brilliant! I love weddings -” the Doctor starts, but falls silent again under Donna’s glare.

“It’s two days before Christmas, Doctor. The wedding is in two days. And look at this! She’s given me a plus one!” Donna points indignantly at the line on the invitation, as if to underscore the offense.

“And that’s...bad?” The Doctor didn’t really understand what was happening, but he did know how to read a room. Most of the time.

“She  _ knows _ I haven’t got anyone to take as a plus one! I’ve not even been on a date since...since...well, nevermind that,” she glares again at the Doctor, as if he had been pressing her on when her last date was. “The point is, she’s put it on here  _ specifically _ so that when I show up without a date, I’ll look like - like a sad, lonely idiot!”

“Oh, is that all?” The Doctor asks brightly. “In that case, I can -”

“Is that all? IS THAT ALL?! Of course you wouldn’t understand. I bet you’ve never had to go to a wedding alone.”

“I’m sure I must have done at some point,” the Doctor screws up his face, like he’s really thinking about it. “I think there was that time on -”

“UGH, spare me,” Donna interrupts, and goes back to muttering under her breath something that sounds like “stupid pretty space boy.”

“Donna.”

No response, only angry muttering.

“DONNA.”

“WHAT?!”

“I’ll be your date.”

“...what.”

“For the wedding! I’ll be your date. I love weddings, all the food and drinks and dancing, and you need someone to go with you, so why not?”

Donna hesitates, but looks like she’s considering the offer, so the Doctor decides to really sell it.

He gets down on one knee, grabs Donna by the hand, and looks deep into her eyes.

“Donna Noble,” he says seriously, “I would like nothing more than to eat, drink, and make fun of Nerys’ wedding guests with you. Will you please make me the happiest Time Lord on Earth by allowing me to be your plus one?”

Donna can’t help the smile that creeps across her face.

“Oh, alright then. If it means that much to you,” she says with feigned nonchalance.

The Doctor jumps to his feet with a wide grin. Donna, main issue now resolved, moves on to listing off her other wedding-related complaints, but without any of the distress of her earlier outburst. 

The Doctor slides back around the console, tinkering absentmindedly as Donna critiques everything from the invitation font (“over the top”) to the paper color (“unoriginal”).

“And who gets married on Christmas anyways? Like anyone wants to give up their holiday to sit through someone else’s wedding! The nerve of some people!”

The Doctor looks up from the console, frowning at her.

“Didn’t  _ you _ have a Christmas wedding?”

“Shut up.”

xxx

Donna insists that if she’s going to show up to her best frenemies’ wedding with a fake date, she at least wants to look incredible.

“I don’t want to show up wearing the same thing as anyone else,” Donna explains. “I ended up wearing the same dress as one of Nerys’ friends from work at her New Years party three years ago and she hasn’t let me live it down since. And I can’t wear something I already have anyways, because then I’d be an outfit repeater, and that’s even worse.”

The Doctor himself has been alternating between the same two suits for the better part of a century now, and no one has ever said anything to him about it. But he concedes he’ll never understand the intricacies of human female friendships, so he agrees to drop her off at a 31st century mall to find a suitable outfit.

By now the Doctor knows quite how long Donna can spend in the shops, so he quickly volunteers himself to find a wedding gift they can present the happy couple while she searches for a dress. Four hours later, Donna has found the perfect dress, and the Doctor has reprogrammed every security system in the building, reunited three lost children with their families, put out two minor fires (one of which he accidentally started), and - in the last five minutes - grabbed a bottle of wine to gift to Nerys.

“Special celebration wine from Bacchus Four,” the Doctor says, holding the bottle out to Donna for her to inspect.

It looked very similar to any old Earth wine, except the glass of the bottle seemed to shift colors as the light hit it.

“It’s a traditional wedding gift there, but -”

“- no one on Earth will have ever seen it,” Donna finishes with a grin.

“Exactly,” the Doctor grins back. “One perfectly unique wedding gift.”

“Perfect,” Donna agrees. 

She examines the bottle again, looking at the label written in some unknown language where all the words seemed to have far too many letters to be considered reasonable.

“We’ll just tell them it’s French,” she adds. 

“Well then! Wedding gift, check!,” the Doctor thrusts the wine up in the air triumphantly. 

He points to the garment bag slung over Donna’s shoulder. “Dress, check!”

He spins in a circle, then points to himself. “Perfect date, check!”

Donna rolls her eyes.

“Looks like we’re ready for a wedding. Allons-y!”


	2. Only fools rush in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone asks, ‘Doctor Who?’

The Doctor had offered to land the TARDIS right outside of Nerys’ wedding, just before the actual ceremony, but Donna didn’t want to draw attention to their unusual method of arrival. With the ceremony scheduled for Christmas morning, everyone else would be arriving the night before and spending Christmas Eve in a hotel together. It would be too conspicuous to be the only ones to show up just in time for the ceremony.

Besides, Donna had some doubts about the Doctor’s ability to land the TARDIS at such a specific time and place under pressure. She’d have a lot of explaining to do if the TARDIS materialized just as Nerys was walking down the aisle.

So, the TARDIS lands behind the hotel late afternoon on Christmas Eve.

“Look Donna!” the Doctor exclaims as he steps out of the TARDIS, “Proper snow! Actual, proper snow. Haven’t seen that in a while! And on Christmas too! That’s brilliant, that is.”

The Doctor spins around, grinning at Donna as steps out of the ship, suitcase in hand. She looks up instinctively and immediately gets a bunch of snow in her eyes. She looks back down, shaking her head to clear her face.

“We were at that ski resort planet only two weeks ago,” she grumbles, seeming not nearly as spirited as the Doctor about the current weather.

The pair begin to trek up to the hotel entrance, leaving a trail of footprints through the light dusting of snow already covering the ground. 

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true, but that was specially manufactured Never Melt Snow, which lives up to its name to be sure, but it doesn’t really have quite the same _feel_ to it. You know, it’s funny how many planets actually attempt to recreate Earth-based weather systems and incorporate them into their own climate.”

Donna hums in agreement and pushes open the door to the hotel lobby, where several people are milling about inside.

“It’s not just snow, of course. Earth-style beaches and rainforests are also a big draw for tourists on other planets. Kembel, for instance - OUCH!”

The Doctor’s sentence ends in a yelp of pain as Donna steps very deliberately on his foot.

“Ix-nay on the space mumbo-jumbo,” Donna mutters, casting a nervous glance at the other hotel patrons. “For the next day and a half, you’re supposed to be human.”

“Human?” The Doctor looks affronted. “I didn’t know that was part of the deal.”

“People are staring,” Donna says under her breath.

It’s true, but it’s hard to say if they were staring because they heard a man talking about other planets or because they heard that same man give a very undignified yelp.

Either way, Donna grabs the Doctor by the arm and starts dragging him towards the reception desk. 

She only makes it two steps before disaster strikes.

“Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no,” Donna mutters.

“What? Is it an invasion?” the Doctor whispers back, twisting in Donna’s grip to look all around. “There’s always an invasion on Christmas -”

“It’s worse than an invasion. It’s -”

Donna’s panicked response is cut off by the arrival of a severe-looking elderly woman, who steps right in front of the pair. Her hair is twisted into a neat bun, but her makeup is overdone and the stole around her neck seems to be giving them the evil eye.

“Donna. So you _did_ make it after all. So good to see you,” the woman says, sounding like it isn’t at all good to see her.

“Aunt Muriel,” Donna answers, “Yes, it’s nice to -”

“And this must be that boyfriend of yours. My dear Nerys mentioned you were bringing someone, although you could have given us more notice. Really, just days before the ceremony, I don’t know what you were thinking...but you’re both here now, and that’s what matters, isn’t it?”

“Er, yes -” Donna starts, but Aunt Muriel isn’t done. 

“Though, my dear...isn’t he a little...young for you?” She steps closer to the Doctor, peering at him intently through narrowed eyes.

“Oh, I’m older than I look,” the Doctor responds casually. The old woman smiles, polite but dismissive.

“Much, _much_ older,” the Doctor continues enthusiastically. 

The smile slides off Aunt Muriel’s face, replaced by a confused frown. Her eyes flick back over to Donna, who changes the subject hurriedly. 

“Well, lovely seeing you, hope to catch up more later,” Donna says, taking the Doctor by the arm once more and dragging him further into the lobby. “We really must check in now, bye-bye!”

“Nerys’ great aunt,” she whispers to the Doctor. “She was always a busybody, and now that she’s retired she’s got nothing to do but stick her nose in everyone’s business.”

“Yeah, I know the type,” the Doctor answers.

Donna’s not sure if this is meant to be a dig at her or not, so she elbows him in the side for good measure before stepping up to the concierge and checking in. She shoves the hotel welcome packet and room key at the Doctor, who grabs Donna’s suitcase and bounds excitedly across the lobby towards the stairs. Donna turns back to the concierge, intending to grill him about what other guests have arrived, when -

“Uh, Donna,” the Doctor calls loudly across the room, looking down at the papers in one hand, “I think there’s been a mistake. They’ve only given us one room!”

Several other guests - including Aunt Muriel - look over at him curiously. Donna abandons the concierge desk immediately and crosses the lobby quickly.

“Of course there’s only one room, numpty, we’re supposed to be here _together_ ,” she hisses at him. 

“Real jokester, this one!” she calls back to the room. “Never can resist a laugh!”

Under the suspicious eye of Aunt Muriel, Donna grabs the Doctor by the arm and begins marching him up the stairs.

“But then, where am I going to -”

“Back on the TARDIS, obviously!”

“Oh, right.”

xxx

Safe from prying eyes upstairs, Donna spends some time unpacking while the Doctor inspects every inch of the room. He’s pleased they have a window offering them a lovely view of the TARDIS covered in snow below, but laments the age of the TV set, which he immediately whips out his sonic to modify.

When he’s satisfied, Donna plops down on the bed, flipping on the TV and settling in for some quality channel surfing time. The Doctor, never one to just relax, has got one eye on the baking program Donna’s settled on and one on his current project: some kind of heavy metal disk with a bunch of exposed wires poking out one end.

Donna opens her mouth to comment on the complete lack of competence being demonstrated on this baking show when there’s a sort of sizzling sound.

“Oops,” the Doctor mutters.

“What d’you mean, _oops_ -” Donna starts, but there’s a bit of smoke with the sizzling now and the Doctor jumps to his feet.

He crosses the room and throws open the window, just in time for the device in his hand to emit a high-pitched whine as it lets loose a beam of concentrated green light towards the ground below. After a moment, the Doctor ducks back inside.

“It’s alright!” he declares. “The TARDIS absorbed the radiation!”

“What d’you mean, _radiation_ -”

But then there’s a knock on the door, and a voice calls, “Is everything alright in there?”

Donna springs up to answer it, opening the door just a crack and sticking her head out.

“Everything’s fine, we were just -”

“Oh, Donna, it’s you!”

Nerys is at the door, already craning her neck to try and see into the room the second Donna had opened it. Donna pulls the door even tighter around her face to block out the sight of the Doctor and his contraption, which in addition to smoking lightly is now...oozing green slime?

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Nerys continues, voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “And I’m dying to meet your date.”

Nerys steps forward, looking ready to force her way into the room. Donna does the only thing she can do. She steps all the way out of the room into the hall, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Is he in there?”

“No,” Donna replies too quickly.

Nerys looks rightfully confused.

“He’s not staying with you then? Aunt Muriel said -”

“Of course he’s staying with me! Here, with me, because he’s my -” Donna gulps, “boyfriend.”

“So I can meet him now!”

“Uh, no. No you can’t, not right now,” Donna stammers, “because he’s...in the shower! Yeah, the Doctor’s in the shower right now, so you’ll just have to meet him later!”

Donna represses a sigh of relief. That’s a perfectly valid, totally normal and not alien excuse. She gives herself a mental pat on the back.

“...the Doctor?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend, the Doctor,” Donna says, gaining confidence now. “Clever, funny, quite the looker, actually, but don’t tell him that. You’ll meet him later.”

“Sure, but... _the doctor_? Is that like...a weird pet name?”

_Shit_ . Donna’s back to panicking. _Abort conversation!_

Donna leans back into the door, opens it a crack, and calls into the room, “What was that, _dear?”_

She hears the Doctor’s confused “What was what?” in response.

Donna turns back to Nerys.

“Sorry, sounds like he needs me.” 

Donna is already disappearing back into the room as Nerys calls after her.

“We’re doing drinks and hor d'oeuvres downstairs in an hour -”

“Okay, sounds lovely, see you later, bye!”

Donna shuts the door in Nerys’ face.

She turns to see the Doctor mopping up a puddle of green slime with a handkerchief.

“What’s this I hear about hor d'oeuvres?” 

xxx

They do, of course, make an appearance downstairs for the hor d'oeuvres, for who can resist the call of free food and drinks?

Donna strikes up a conversation with one of Nerys’ cousins, leaving the Doctor to his own devices - he never has any trouble finding someone to talk to, so she doesn’t think much of it. She spots him chatting with several guests, until - 

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him standing alone by the food table...and then sees Nerys moving through the crowd towards him.

It’s like watching one of those nature documentaries where a lion stalks its prey. The Doctor stands with his back to Nerys as she approaches, blissfully unaware of what’s coming. There’s no chance to warn him as Nerys swoops in for the kill.

“Are you even a _real_ doctor, or does she just call you that?”

The Doctor startles a bit at Nerys’ sudden appearance at his side, nearly knocking over a centerpiece of stacked hor d'oeuvres he had been contemplating with deep concentration.

“Who, me?” he asks, rather stupidly.

Nerys doesn’t answer, just raises one eyebrow as if to say, ‘ _Obviously you, you absolute nitwit.’_

The Doctor clears his throat and answers a bit too quickly.

“Oh, yes! Got loads of doctorates, me. Doctor of everything, just about!”

Nerys’ eyes narrow skeptically, and Donna knows she’s going to have to step in. She steels her shoulders, knocks back the rest of her drink, and jumps in head first.

“Hello, _dear_ ,” Donna says, sidling up right next to the Doctor and taking hold of his arm. (She’s proud to say it only sounds a little bit forced.)

“Donna.” Nerys says in acknowledgement. “I was just asking your _beloved_ here - “

Donna has to try very hard not to gag, because no one should ever use the word _beloved_ , and they especially should not use it in reference to the Doctor.

“- about his _unusual_ name. Even if he _is_ a doctor, I don’t know why you just call him “Doctor.” I mean, Doctor _who?”_

Donna knows she needs to shut down this line of inquiry ASAP. And as one of Nerys’ oldest friends, Donna knows she loves to fluster people, but actually hates having to deal with any real confrontation. So, Donna goes full Attack Mode.

“He _is_ a doctor and he’s a bloody brilliant one too! What would _you_ know about it anyway? Who gave you the right to tell people what they can and can’t be called, hmm? Maybe I just like the sound of it, _Doctor._ Lets everyone know he’s smart and important, see? You just _wish_ you had a Doctor like mine!”

Nerys splutters for a moment before she conveniently sees someone across the room waving her over. She mumbles an excuse to the pair as she walks away, looking very much like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The Doctor and Donna watch her go, identical smirks forming on their faces. The Doctor looks down at Donna, and his smirk grows even wider.

“Smart and important, huh?”

“Shut up,” Donna answers, detangling her arm from his.

“Bloody brilliant, am I?”

“I said, shut up!”

Donna shoves him playfully backward into the table, and the carefully arranged Jenga tower of hor d'oeuvres collapses. They walk away quickly.


	3. Baby it's cold outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Donna should have known better.

“I can’t believe you volunteered us for this,” Donna gripes, turning up the collar of her coat and shivering.

The pair were struggling through the snow, making their way across the village. Shortly after their run in with Nerys, the woman had suddenly had a complete meltdown. Apparently, the flowers for the wedding ceremony had never been delivered. The Doctor had graciously ( _ stupidly _ ) volunteered himself and Donna to visit the Christmas market across town to pick some up for her.

“Aw, come on Donna! It’s Christmas Eve, it’s a beautiful night, and there’s a lovely market waiting for us just over the hill.”

To be fair, it  _ was _ a beautiful night. The moon was bright and snow was still falling softly, and many of the houses in the village were softly illuminated with festive lights. However, these things didn’t stop it from being  _ cold. _

“Why couldn’t we just take the TARDIS?” Donna whines.

“You know she doesn’t like short hops,” the Doctor says defensively. “Besides, look at it this way: it will save us a couple more hours of mingling and small talk.”

“True,” Donna agrees, considering the alternative. She’d rather be out in the cold with the Doctor for company than inside with all of Nerys’ awful relatives any day. It really was  _ cold _ out here though.

“But I’m still freezing,” she continues. “My hands are like ice.”

“It’s not really that cold,” the Doctor says with a shrug. “Just keep them in your pockets, you’ll be fine.”

“They have been in my pockets,” Donna insists, “and they’re still COLD. Here, feel!”

She pulls her hands out of her coat pockets and reaches for the Doctor. He instinctively reaches for them with his own, but halfway between them Donna’s hands shoot upward instead, cupping his face with her freezing fingers.

The Doctor leaps backward with a sort of strangled cry and something that might have been a curse on another planet, nearly falling over into the snow in his haste to escape her icy grasp.

“Told ya,” Donna grins devilishly.

“Yes, alright, point made,” muttered the Doctor, now cupping his face with his own hands as if to chase away the lingering coolness of Donna’s touch.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking...humans…” 

The Doctor reaches back out to Donna, taking her hand in his, only wincing slightly at the touch.

“Blimey, you’re hot,” she says in surprise.

The Doctor shoots her a sideways smirk, opens his mouth - 

“Don’t,” Donna warns.

He makes a big show of motioning locking his lips and throwing away the key.

After a moment’s silence, he motions unzipping them to add, “Do keep the other one in your pocket though. I can only warm up one at a time.”

“I’m not taking advice from someone who unzips a lock,” she answers haughtily, but slips her other hand back into her pocket anyways.

xxx

Still, Donna concedes the trek was worth it once they summit the hill and look down into the valley below. Even with a few alien planets under her belt, she would be hard pressed to name a more picturesque view. Below, people bustled between old-fashioned market stalls selling festive foods and drinks and handmade presents. Twinkling lights illuminated the pathways between stalls. The breeze drifting over the market brought the scent of cinnamon, and over it all, the snow drifted softly down.

Donna and the Doctor stand at the top of the hill, looking down on all of it. The Doctor grins in an “I told you so” sort of way.

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Donna says, pulling him down towards the stalls as if it had been her idea all along.

They glide up and down the aisles, pausing for anything that catches their eye. Donna has to drag the Doctor away from a table full of little wooden puzzle boxes (because there’s no way that ends well). Upon the Doctor’s insistence, the pair join a short queue for hot chocolate. They’re chatting away about nothing in particular when a voice behind them chimes in.

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest.”

Donna and the Doctor spin around to find an elderly couple queueing behind them. 

“Huh?” Donna says, as the Doctor answers, “Sorry?”

“Don’t mind her,” the old man says gruffly. “She’s always nosing in other people’s business.”

“I’m not nosing,” the old woman insists. “How is it nosing to pay someone a compliment? I’m just saying they look like a lovely couple.”

“Oh no, we’re not -“

“Yeah, no, that’s just -“

The Doctor and Donna begin protesting at the same time. 

“No?” the old woman responds with a frown. “But you’re both so attractive!”

Donna and the Doctor exchange a confused glance.

“I mean, I just thought…” 

The woman looks down pointedly between them. Donna follows her gaze to where she’s been holding on to the Doctor’s arm as they drift through the market. She looks back up to see the old woman holding on to her husband in the exact same way. The Doctor’s gaze follows hers and they jump apart immediately.

“See what you’ve done now, Lydia? You made them uncomfortable,” the man says to his wife.

“I think I see flowers over there,” Donna says quickly, stepping away from the line.

“Don’t you dare,” the Doctor hisses at her. “Donna!”

“I’ll meet you there!” Donna says loudly, grinning widely.

She leaves the Doctor standing in line for hot chocolate, avoiding the questions of the couple who are now having a domestic over whether or not they’ve caused the Doctor and Donna to have a domestic. 

Donna wanders a short ways away, and – as luck would have it – actually does find someone selling flowers. Probably an actual florist, judging from the size of the whole operation, which includes a fully decorated storefront.

It’s crawling with customers, but Donna squeezes into the fray, already on the hunt for the best flowers. Under no circumstances would Donna Noble be responsible for retrieving subpar wedding décor.

She casts a discerning eye across buckets of primrose and sprigs of holly until she sees it: some absolutely beautiful poinsettias already woven into a long strand running along the roof’s edge and cascading down the sides of the building.

Donna squeezes through the crowd again until she finds the florist, who’s at the head of a pretty significant line of people waiting to buy flowers.

“Are those also for sale?” Donna asks, pointing up at the rooftop flowers.

“Uh, not really, no, they’re just meant to decorate the shop –“ the florist starts distractedly, with one eye on Donna and one on the woman in front of him buying mistletoe.

Of course, Donna isn’t one to take “no” for an answer.

“It’s just that it’s really an emergency, see? My friend’s wedding is tomorrow and her flowers never arrived, bad weather I guess, who can say, but she sent me all the way across town in the snow and the cold to come here to buy flowers for the wedding, to replace the ones that never came, and you have plenty of lovely flowers, really, but seeing as it’s a wedding and seeing as the bride has already been disappointed once I just think it’s really important that the flowers that I bring back are –“

“Yes, okay, fine, you can have those,” the florist huffs. “But I have to stay here,” he gestures to the queue in front of him, “so you’ll have to get them down yourself. Get my assistant to help you.” The florist gestures to the shop door.

“Thank you!” Donna says brightly and starts pushing her way back through the crowd to make it to the storefront.

But when Donna pokes her head inside, there’s absolutely no one in there.

“Of course,” she mutters to herself. Well, nothing for it. She’d just have to get the flowers on her own.

She emerges from the store and heads over to one end of the strand of poinsettias. She grabs the loose end hanging down and pulls gently at an angle, releasing the flowers from that section of the roof.

“Piece of cake,” Donna grins to herself. “Who needs an assistant?”

She follows along the line of the building, tugging softly on the strand and pulling the flowers down from the roof easily. Until about three-quarters of the way down, when they get stuck on something.

She pulls a bit harder, and then a bit harder still, until all of a sudden the flowers come loose…bringing with them all the snow from the roof.

Donna falls backward as a heavy sheet of snow covers her and it’s cold everywhere and she doesn’t know which way is up and it’s cold and she can’t see the twinkling lights anymore and there’s the sound of something that might be people yelling but they sound so far away and she can’t see them and it’s  _ cold. _

For a while, Donna forgets where she is, who she is, and can only think about the cold pressing in on her from all sides. She thinks she might panic if she could feel anything other than cold, but she can’t, so she doesn’t.

Then, after what seems like an eternity, there’s a breeze on her face. It’s still cold, but it’s not the same kind of cold as before. And the twinkling lights are back, and the voices are clearer, and then arms are firmly grasping Donna’s and pulling, pulling her away from the cold.

Donna tries to figure out what they’re saying, but her head feels sluggish. Then she hears what sounds like...a horse? Her last thought before she passes out is that she must be delirious. 

xxx

Donna fades in and out of consciousness. Someone is holding on to her, and that someone is very warm. It’s nice, because Donna is very cold.

She is probably also delirious because she knows she’s moving, and she still hears a horse. But surely she can’t be riding a horse? Donna doesn’t know how to ride a horse. Her mum never let her take lessons.

The arms wrapped around her start running up and down her sides.

“Oi, watch it,” Donna mutters. She tries to swat the hands away, but finds she doesn’t have the energy to lift her own.

“Shut up,” a voice answers, and the hands hold her tighter.

“You shut up,” Donna instinctively responds before drifting off again, sinking into their warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an (obscure?) X-Files reference in this chapter, fitting with the Christmas spirit...


	4. Near, far, wherever you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor really should have known better.

The first thing Donna registers, just before she fully wakes up, is that it’s not cold anymore. In fact, it’s quite warm. The second thing is the low murmur of voices. Donna thinks the combination is actually quite soothing, and she’s drifting back off to sleep when a much louder, more shrill voice cuts across the rest.

“Honestly, she’s _fine_! She’s just sleeping now, we don’t all need to be here, waiting on her hand and foot.”

Donna feels herself begin to wake as part of her mind works to recognize the voice.

“I mean, I’m getting married tomorrow, and it’s like no one even cares!”

_Ah_ , Donna thinks, _Nerys is on the warpath._

“You’re supposed to be a doctor. Isn’t she fine?”

“Yes, she’ll be fine,” the Doctor agrees readily, though his voice sounds a bit tense...and also much closer than Donna would have expected.

Donna opens her eyes slowly. She’s under a heavy blanket, lying on a couch in the hotel lobby which has been pulled up close to a roaring fire. There’s a quite a number of people gathered around besides Nerys, including Aunt Muriel, the hotel concierge, and a few of Nerys’ young cousins, who she imagines aren’t concerned about her welfare so much as they are enjoying the drama of it all. Though come to think of it, that was probably true of everyone else, too.

She turns her head and finds the Doctor sitting in a chair pulled next to the couch. Like, right next to it. Like if he were any closer, he’d be sitting in her lap. Donna frowns slightly and opens her mouth to remind him of their previous conversations about human conceptions of _personal space_ when he catches her eye and shakes his head slightly.

“Donna! How are you feeling? We’ve been worried about you...darling,” the Doctor says, giving her a significant look. 

It’s enough for Donna to remember where they are and what they’re meant to be doing all at once. Clearly, she’d been out for a bit and the Doctor had been playing the role of Most Dutiful and Concerned Partner, hovering at her sickbed. And by the shade of red on Nerys’ face, he must have been really hamming it up.

“Oh, much better now _honey_ ,” Donna says, face breaking out into a huge grin. “You must have been taking good care of me.”

She thinks the situation calls for a bit of gazing soppily into each other’s eyes, but the moment is ruined by her breaking into a coughing fit.

The Doctor turns sideways in his chair and asks one of Nerys’ many relatives hanging about to bring some tea. There’s something a bit off about the movement, though, like he isn’t willing to turn all the way away from Donna. That’s when she realizes one of his hands is grasping hers under the blanket.

_Aw, he really was worried, the old sap_.

She squeezes his hand reassuringly as he turns back around and gives him a soft smile. He smiles back, but something’s still a bit off…

The Doctor clears his throat and addresses the small crowd gathered before them.

“Well, we’re so glad you all decided to stay here because…” the Doctor trails off slightly, and Donna imagines he’s trying to think of something to say other than “because you’re all incredibly nosy.”

“- because you care about Donna’s wellbeing,” he settles on, “but Nerys is right. There’s a wedding tomorrow! You should all get some rest. Donna’s just going to have some tea and then we’ll be off to bed ourselves, isn’t that right, Donna?”

Donna’s a bit put out by the way the Doctor was rushing everyone off to bed - she wouldn’t have minded if they all doted on her a bit more, when she was awake to appreciate it - but she voices her agreement anyways.

Slowly, the crowd filters out of the lobby, until only Donna and the Doctor remain in front of the dying fire.

“How are you, really?”

“Alright, I think. A bit sniffly. But I’m not cold anymore. Some tea and some sleep, I think, and I’ll be right as rain.”

As if on cue, one of Nerys’ cousins emerges with a tea tray. Donna moves to sit up, instinctively releasing the Doctor’s hand under the blanket, but he grabs it back quickly. Donna frowns and moves to shake him off, but he holds it firmly in his grasp. Nerys’ cousin hovers next to them with the tea tray, confused.

“Can you just, um...leave it on the table over there? Thanks,” the Doctor says to her.

The woman shuffles across the room and deposits the tray on the table. She shoots the pair a weird look as she heads up the stairs.

Donna sits up, pulling her hand away from the Doctor as she does.

“What d’you think you’re -”

As Donna makes to move the blanket, the Doctor’s arm moves with her. She pauses. Looks at the Doctor.

“No,” she says.

The Doctor avoids her eyes.

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Well... _I_ didn’t...personally…” the Doctor trails off under Donna’s gaze.

She takes a deep breath and then pulls her arm out from under the blanket.

The Doctor’s arm comes with it.

Because they’re handcuffed together.

There’s a moment of silence, then - 

“I’m going to kill you.”

xxx

The handcuffs apparently belonged to one of Nerys’ young cousins who was going through a “magic” phase, and no matter how the Doctor tried to spin the story, what it boiled down to was this:

Annoying kid: “Bet you can’t get out of my magic handcuffs!”

The Doctor: “I can absolutely get out of those magic handcuffs, and I will prove it to you right now.”

Of course, he absolutely could not get out of the magic handcuffs and that had led to their current predicament.

So for the past ten minutes or so, Donna had been sipping her tea one-handed while contemplating how some 10-year-old brat had outsmarted The Last Time Lord. Nothing says de-evolution quite like inventing time travel and then being outsmarted by a pair of trick handcuffs. 

The Doctor, having explained the circumstances leading to their current situation, had moved on to extrapolating theories as to what the “trick” of the cuffs was. (Donna suspected the ‘trick’ was simply that they couldn’t be opened once closed.)

“ - will be something you have to do to both sides at the same time, and that’s why I couldn’t get out of them while you were unconscious, see? So I’ve got a list of about a dozen simultaneous methods left to try, and one of those is bound to work for sure.”

Donna finishes her tea and sets the mug on the tray, which is now sitting next to her on the couch.

“The good news is we won’t need to dislocate anything until Method 8,” the Doctor continues brightly, “so there’s a good chance we’ll solve it before it comes to -”

“DISLOCATE?!”

“Yes, well, like I said, it’s Method 8, so -”

“What about the sonic?”

“The sonic?”

“Yeah, your _sonic screwdriver_? Does stuff like _opening locks_?”

Donna tries to cross her arms but can’t manage it properly chained to the Doctor. She huffs in annoyance.

“But that would be cheating,” the Doctor whines. “I know we can get out without the sonic if we just -”

“Sonic. NOW.”

They schlep awkwardly up the stairs back to Donna’s room to retrieve the sonic, struggling a bit on the narrow staircase which prevents them from walking side by side. Donna fumbles with the lock working one handed, and as she gets the door open she hears another open a few doors down. Glancing over instinctively, she locks eyes with - of course - none other than Aunt Muriel. Aunt Muriel, who is currently staring with hawk-like intensity at Donna and the Doctor. No, she’s staring at -

Donna pushes the door open quickly and drags the Doctor into the room after her. 

“Do you think she saw -”

“Noooo,” the Doctor says, unconvincingly.

Donna just looks at him.

“Almost certainly,” he amends.

The Doctor grabs the sonic screwdriver and points it at the handcuffs, which spring open almost instantly. 

“And _you_ wanted to start dislocating fingers. Honestly,” Donna shakes her head. “Now scram, spaceman.”

“Well, goodnight to you too,” the Doctor mutters as he leaves the room.

Donna takes a nice, hot shower to rid herself of the final lingering chill before putting on some cozy pajamas and climbing into bed.

She’s just about to drift off to sleep when there’s a soft knock on her door.

She ignores it.

More knocking, a little louder now, and then a voice calling her name in a sort of whispered yell.

“ _Donna!_ _Donna, are you up?”_

Donna groans and drags herself out of bed, opening the door to find the Doctor standing in the hallway, looking sheepish.

“What?”

“Can I stay here with you?”

“What?!”

“I can’t get in the TARDIS -”

The floorboards of the staircase creaked, warning of someone coming up, so Donna has no choice but to pull the Doctor back into her room or be seen by yet another of Nerys’ nosy relatives.

“What do you mean, you can’t get in the TARDIS?” she asks, shutting the door behind them.

“Er, well, I’m not sure if she’s still repairing herself from the radiation beam I shot at her today, or if she’s just mad at me for shooting her in the first place. Could be either, 50/50 I’d say, or maybe 40/60, but anyway, the point is, she uh, won’t let me in right now.”

Donna stands there staring at him, arms crossed.

“And I can’t stay in the lobby, because then anyone who comes downstairs will see me and think you’ve kicked me out -”

“UGH, fine,” Donna says, already headed back over to the bed. “You can stay here, but only because I’m tired and I don’t have the energy to deal with finding another solution to this.”

She pulls back the blanket and climbs in as the Doctor toes off his shoes. He flops down on the other side, sprawling on top of the bedcovers, looking wide awake.

“I mean, do you even sleep?”

“Of course I sleep! Everything sleeps, Donna. Well, not everything. Most things. Well, some things. Well -”

“Shut up, or I’ll make you sleep in the bathtub.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't manage to quite get the whole fic out by Christmas...but it will be done before New Years!


	5. Burnin' for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get kinky.

The Doctor wakes first in the morning, and he’s grateful Donna is such a heavy sleeper because it means he can extricate himself from Donna’s aggressive cuddling without having to ever bring up said aggressive cuddling to her while she’s conscious.

The Doctor makes a run downstairs to the kitchen to grab a breakfast tray, which he sets on the table upon reentering the room. He approaches the still sleeping Donna cautiously. He shakes her awake, jumping back immediately to avoid the pillow she throws in his direction with a groan. Donna is not a morning person.

She mumbles something into her pillow which might be “five more minutes,” but the Doctor coaxes her awake with the promise of tea and breakfast.   
  


After a leisurely morning for the Doctor and a frantic one for Donna (“You only left me two hours to get ready?!”), the pair make their way downstairs for the wedding ceremony. Of course, with these two it’s never quite so straightforward.

They’re coming down the otherwise empty hallway when the voice of Aunt Muriel drifts around the corner. The Doctor and Donna exchange a glance, then in unison decide ‘nope!’ and launch themselves through the nearest open door.

The Doctor pulls the door shut behind them, then spins to find Donna. He doesn’t have far to look, because Donna is  _ right there _ when he turns around. Like, quite literally  _ right there _ . Because they’ve just closed themselves inside a closet.

_ “Honestly,” _ Donna mutters, right into the Doctor’s neck, because there’s nowhere to go.

_ “Shhh,” _ he hisses back into her hair.

They can hear Aunt Muriel getting closer as she comes down the hall.

“Yes, it’s alright, I’m sure I saw an extra vase up here.”

Donna turns her head slightly to the left and sure enough, spots a vase sitting on the shelf. She pokes the Doctor hard in the side and points to it, wide eyed.

His panicked expression mirrors Donna’s, eyes darting from the vase on the shelf, to the closet door, to the lack of space between him and Donna.

“Sonic!” Donna whisper-demands. “Sonic the door lock!”

“Won’t that look weird when she can’t open the door?”

“More weird than how it will look if she  _ does  _ open the door?!”

The Doctor looks at their weirdly intertwined bodies jammed into the tiny closet.

“Fair point.”

He rummages around in his suit jacket (which is difficult with Donna wedged up against him) as Aunt Muriel’s footsteps grow closer. Just when Donna thinks they’re done for there’s a tiny whirring noise, and the doorknob is twisting but it’s too late: the Doctor has managed to lock the door. 

Outside Aunt Muriel grumbles unpleasantly and even kicks the door once, but ultimately is forced to retreat vase-less.

Donna breathes a sigh of relief and tries to suppress a laugh.

“Why is it always us?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” the Doctor grins.

xxx

After the closet incident, things go quite smoothly. The Doctor and Donna wait a bit to be sure Aunt Muriel has gone, then emerge to join the rest of the wedding guests just in time for the ceremony. 

The wedding ceremony itself is pleasant enough - if a bit long - but it keeps the Doctor and Donna from having to interact with the family for a while, so they don’t mind. Donna’s not sure how her (fake) relationship became more interesting than that of the bride and groom, but it seemed everyone and their mother were itching to talk to her about the Doctor. She keeps catching the eye of random people turning to stare at them throughout the ceremony. When Nerys finally says “I do” and everyone is excused to the reception, Donna knows they’re about to be swarmed.

Making the unanimous decision that mingling with Nerys’ relatives will require some additional fortification, the Doctor and Donna make straight for the bar. Drinks in hand, they take a sip at the same time and make identical  _ yuck _ faces.

“Ugh, hope they didn’t spend much on this,” Donna grimaces into her glass of wine.

“It is...not good,” the Doctor agrees, frowning.

Donna locks eyes with Aunt Muriel across the room. She starts coming over.

“Well, bottoms up,” Donna says, eyeing the advancing woman with a growing sense of foreboding.

“Cheers,” the Doctor answers grimly, following her gaze.

They drain their glasses with identical grimaces, then order another round. Donna loops her arm through the Doctor’s and spins them around to face the wolves.

Right on cue, Aunt Muriel sidles up to them, Nerys on her arm (her new husband has already disappeared) with one of the cousins trailing behind. Donna thinks it’s the same one who brought the tea tray last night.

“Here they are, the ones everybody’s been talking about!” Nerys’ cousin exclaims.

Nerys shoots her a dirty look, which Donna can’t exactly blame her for. Nobody wants to be upstaged at their own wedding.

“Who, us?” Donna asks, taking another big gulp of her drink and probably looking a bit undignified while doing it, based on the Doctor’s side eye.

“Of course, you!” 

Nerys’ cousin slides right up to the Doctor’s other side, hanging on to his arm and nearly spilling his wine in her eagerness to grab ahold. Now Donna’s giving her a dirty look. How dare this woman touch her (pretend) boyfriend like that! 

Donna steps sideways a bit and pulls the Doctor closer to her so Touchy Cousin slides right off his arm, then glares pointedly at her to be sure she gets the picture.

Touchy Cousin doesn’t seem phased, she just takes another step in towards the Doctor.

“It’s just all so  _ dramatic _ , isn’t it? A winter storm, a damsel in distress, a dashing rescue in a horse-drawn carriage!” Touchy Cousin sighs dreamily. “That’s old-fashioned, storybook romance if I ever saw it!”

Donna objects to a lot of what’s just been said, but it’s Aunt Muriel who chimes in first.

“Some people create drama wherever they go,” she sniffs. “ _ You _ would see that as romantic, Charlotte.”

Donna exchanges a glance with the Doctor. They do actually seem to create drama wherever they go...just not the kind being implied here.

Cousin Charlotte pouts at Aunt Muriel’s words, and Nerys chimes in, “You think everything slightly out of the ordinary is a storybook romance. God knows what Donna does every day -”

Donna glowers at her.

“- but I’m sure it’s perfectly average and boring.”

“Yup, that’s us!” the Doctor agrees readily, apparently under the impression this conversation has an easy out. “Just a regular, boring, ah -”

“ - couple,” Donna finishes. “Just a regular couple. Totally normal, us, not even worth talking about, really - ”

“Normal? Pfff,” Aunt Muriel scoffs again. “I saw the two of you out in the hall last night -” 

“Oh no,” the Doctor mutters.

“ -  _ handcuffed _ together!”

“Here we go.” Donna knocks back the rest of her drink.

“Honestly, what you do behind closed doors, in the privacy of your own home is your business, but just out and about in public? And so soon after Donna had been ill, I mean it’s just not - “

“Oh my God,” Nerys interrupts. “Is that why you call him ‘Doctor’? Is it like, a sex thing?”

“What? That’s - no! It’s not a - my name is not a - a  _ sex thing _ !” the Doctor splutters.

“It totally sounds like a sex thing,” Nerys muses.

“Kinky,” cousin Charlotte agrees.

“Kill me,” Donna mumbles, staring longingly into her already empty glass and already plotting an exit strategy.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!”

“I mean really, Donna, I thought you just had a bit of an age difference thing going on,” Aunt Muriel starts in again. “Nothing wrong with that of course, I’ve been known to date younger men in my time…”

She winks at the Doctor, who gulps and looks around as if hoping it could have been directed at anyone else.

“...but handcuffs out in public and all of this ‘doctor’ roleplaying business - ”

“ _ Roleplaying? _ ” the Doctor protests. “That’s not - we’re not - ”

“ - really, Donna dear it’s all a bit too much.”

“Some people just have performative personalities,” Nerys says matter-of-factly.

“Ooh, that’s like it’s own  _ thing _ isn’t it, that people do?” Charlotte chimes in, sounding excited. She leans in towards the Doctor and starts walking her fingers up his arm slowly. “Pretend to be a boring, normal couple but then when they’re alone -”

Donna lunges across the Doctor and grabs Charlotte’s wrist.

“That’s a  _ lovely _ bracelet, Charlotte, where did you get it?”

“Oh, it’s - “

Donna tugs on the woman’s arm under the guise of seeing the bracelet more clearly, knocking into the Doctor’s glass and spilling wine all over him.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry  _ dear _ , how clumsy of me. Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Donna smiles brightly at the other women. “Do excuse us!”

Donna drags the Doctor away before anyone can respond. 

“Did you have to make me a mess to get us out of there?” the Doctor grumbles, looking down at the wine stain coloring his shirt.

“You’re always a mess,” Donna answers cheekily. “Now go clean yourself up, and I’ll find us something better to drink.”

The Doctor huffs but dutifully heads off to clean himself up. Donna splits off in the opposite direction, making her way to the gifts table. When no one is looking, she snags a bottle of wine, cracks it open, and takes a long swig directly from the bottle. She’s a bit surprised to find that it’s actually good. Like,  _ really _ good. Maybe this night was turning around after all. She dumps a generous portion of wine into her own glass, fills a second for the Doctor, and then hides the open bottle under the gift table.

Donna rejoins the Doctor and shoves the drink in his hand. He takes a big gulp immediately, then looks up at Donna with pleasant surprise. 

“Nicked the good stuff from the gifts table,” she winks.

The Doctor beams conspiratorially at her. 

“Happy Christmas to us,” he answers, clinking his glass against hers.

xxx

It’s not so bad, really, once they work out which relatives to avoid. Admittedly, it’s most of them. But they meet a couple from the groom’s side of the family who seem perfectly nice, and the four of them proceed to have a perfectly normal chat about the wedding (“a beautiful ceremony”), the weather (“lovely, but cold”), and a number of other generic topics. Is it interesting? Not particularly. But no one is trying to get details about the Doctor and Donna’s kinky sex life, so it’s fine.

Donna feels better than fine, actually. She thinks she should be getting bored with this conversation (and if she’s bored the Doctor surely must be), but for some reason it doesn’t bother her. She feels pleasantly warm all over, and she can’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed. She leans her head against the Doctor’s shoulder and feels a wide smile spread across her face as he wraps an arm around her waist in response. 

The other couple excuses themselves to go talk with some other relatives, leaving the Doctor and Donna alone. They stand in comfortable silence for a moment. The Doctor’s thumb is moving in gentle circles on Donna’s back. Donna breathes in deeply - had the Doctor always smelled so good?

“Donna,” the Doctor says suddenly, dropping his arm and stepping away from her. “What kind of wine is this?”

“Dunno,” she answers, jolted by his sudden movement and feeling a bit confused by this non sequitur. “I told you, I just grabbed - “

“Grabbed one from the gift table, yeah,” the Doctor finishes. His eyes look darker than usual, Donna thinks.

The Doctor heads over to the gifts, Donna trailing behind him, just watching him walk…why does he look so good when he walks?

“It’s not here,” the Doctor mutters, now frantically picking up and discarding various bottles of wine (it’s a popular wedding gift).

He dives under the table, still searching, and comes back up with the bottle Donna had opened and abandoned. 

“You opened the wine  _ we _ brought!” he hisses, as if that’s a bad thing.

“Well don’t go getting a conscience about it now,” Donna says, a bit crossly. “If you feel that bad about it we’ll just go pick them up another one.”

“That’s not - “ the Doctor takes a deep breath and steps in closer to Donna. Very close. He bites his lip nervously and Donna finds herself staring at it.

“Bacchus Four celebration wine isn’t for the guests. Or at least, not the guests at this type of party.”

“So?”

“So it’s only meant to be drunk by the couple.”

Donna feels like she should be able to connect the dots herself by now, but she’s finding it hard to think with the Doctor standing so close.

“What are you saying?” she whispers, voice husky.

“I’m saying the wine we’ve been drinking is one of the universe’s most powerful aphrodisiacs.”

They stand there, staring at each other for a beat, still standing closer than polite company would normally allow. Then - 

“Oh my God,” Donna says.

“I know.”

“I drank - you - you and me - Bacchus Four - ”

“Yup.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know.”

“When does it wear off?”

“For you? An hour maybe, as long as you hydrate properly. Two tops.”

“And for you?” Donna asks.

“Less, provided I can find something to stimulate the proper inhibitive enzymes.”

“Please...don’t say stimulate right now.”

“...roger that.”


	6. Thank you for being a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the nightmare is over.

Ninety minutes later, when the Doctor is done stimulating his enzymes (whatever that means) and feels back to his old self again, he feels safe to go find Donna. 

He’s not surprised to find her hiding back in her room. He is a bit surprised to find her tied to the headboard, though.

“Uhhh…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine now. I just...needed to be sure that I wouldn’t...” Donna trails off. The Doctor stares at her.

“Well are you gonna untie me or what?”

“Right! Sure. Okay,” the Doctor jumps into action, working on the ropes. “But how did you…”

Donna sighs. 

“I had to ask Charlotte to do it,” she mutters. 

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” Donna says grimly. “Desperate times...anyway, it’s not like I’m giving her any  _ new _ ideas about us, seeing as she’s already heard all about the handcuffs.”

The Doctor groans and Donna hums in agreement.

“You know, I think it’s time we got out of here.”

xxx

In ten minutes, Donna has repacked her suitcase, the Doctor has filled his pockets with hor d'oeuvres, and the pair have started edging their way towards the front door and their freedom, doing their best to pass by the other wedding guests unnoticed.

Of course, opening the door lets in a gust of wintry air, drawing the attention of much of the room. Just as the pair start to pass through the open door, someone yells, “WAIT!”

Donna and the Doctor pause in the doorframe, looking back at the crowd uncertainly.

“What?” Donna asks.

“Look up!”

Donna and the Doctor exchange a glance of dread, then look up in unison.

Their fears are confirmed.

Some bastard has hung mistletoe in the doorway.

Now, normally the Doctor and Donna are on the same page. Their actions are in sync. Often times it’s like they know what the other is thinking

So when Donna opens her mouth to tell off whatever wise guy has “trapped” them under the mistletoe, she expects the Doctor is about to do the same. These people deserve a bit of a verbal lashing after how we’ve been treated, Donna thinks. They were leaving anyway, so what did it matter?

Unfortunately, in this case, the Doctor and Donna were not on the same page.

While Donna was gearing up for a fight with the wedding party, the Doctor was ready to comply with their demands one last time. They were leaving, after all, so what did it matter?

So when Donna opens her mouth to start her verbal tirade at the exact same time the Doctor leans in to give her the obligatory quick peck on the lips, what actually happens is a very awkward, semi-open mouth kiss that lingers for much longer than it should because they’re both so shocked and confused by what’s happening.

The wedding guests hoot and holler at their display of “affection.”

The Doctor and Donna pull apart. They stare at each other for a moment, then turn on their heels and head straight for the TARDIS in total silence.

The doors open willingly and they enter, moving immediately to stand on opposite sides of the console. The Doctor types in some coordinates and the ship takes flight. Their eyes lock across the console. It’s silent except for the mechanical whirring of the TARDIS in flight. Then -

“We will never speak of this again,” Donna says.

“Obviously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed going on this trope-y journey with me :)

**Author's Note:**

> Drop your preferred romance tropes in the comments!


End file.
